


The One Where Jim Runs Away To Find Himself

by Glockenspielplayedbyanemu



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: But like they're okay in the end, Fluff and Angst, M/M, So is Spock, and Jim is a mess, but its also very sweet, i'm warning you its sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glockenspielplayedbyanemu/pseuds/Glockenspielplayedbyanemu
Summary: Jim leaves Spock after Tarsus IV cause he's a wreck. He travels the universe and meets up with Spock at various points cause he's a wreck and Spock is like really nice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think any of the warnings apply, but if ever something comes up I will change it and add notes. I haven't actually written the whole story yet but I have a ton of ideas floating about for it. There are references to Tarsus but more as it happened, not what happened. And the reason that Jim is living with the S’chn T’gai is due to abuse from Frank, but that is never explicity mentioned or even referenced. There are times when Jim is beat up doing one thing or another. Like taken hostage and disabling a bomb in the first chapter. I'll be sure to keep it updated and such.

“Don’t worry Spock. You’re argument was totally logical, perfect actually. I just have to, I need to. Its… I- I need to do stuff on my own. Prove my worth to myself. I know, it doesn’t make sense. I know. I don’t get it, I hate it myself. Really, I do. I don’t want to leave you. You’re perfect, amazing, too kind. I don’t get it. But I just- I need to recover. Alone. To find out what- what- I don’t know. Please, just. I don’t know.”  
Spock stared at the bag at Jim’s feet. He was not leaving now, but the bag was packed, to leave any moment. Jim was not one to give up on plans when they’re planned. It had gotten him into much trouble as a child. Spock recalls the time that Jim made a saddle for I’Chya and decided to chart the entire desert. He was eight and gone for a week. The small gardens he had hoped would grow food did not work fast enough and his rations ran out, so Jim had returned to a frantic household. Multiple search parties were sent out to find nothing. However Jim had charted much of the desert with his rigged sensors and was rather smug.  
“Jim-”  
“Hey Spock, I’ll be okay, I promise, I will. And I’ll return and I’ll be okay. I promise. I do, really I will return I just need to go I need to I don’t get it either I’ll return I promise I promise,” Jim paused for a quick breath, “And I made this thing for you so you’d know I’m okay I promise I’ll come back I do I promise there’s nothing that would prevent me. You’re too- You- I- Spock.” Jim scrambled through his pockets and snatched out a small wooden puzzle box. He looked at Spock and breached the distance between them. Jim was careful as he took the box apart and pulled out a necklace. On it was a flat pendant of the anatomical human heart. “It uhm, it’s to match your soulmark. It uh, it beats along with my heart, I made it.” This time he spoke slow, a stark contrast to his previous rush. “I uhm, there’s also a uh protective cover. It’s in the shape of the IDIC, snaps over it. I uh- in case you need to- I don’t know. I thought it out earlier. And uhm there’s a ton of uh batteries in here, which are uh interchangeable. By the clasp on the back. You uh, just unscrew and uhm. The pendent holds enough charge to keep beating as you switch it. I’m sorry.”  
Spock moved his eyes to the necklace Jim held reverently in one hand, the other precariously balancing the dismembered puzzle box. Spock, always the thinker, reached for each piece of the box and put it back together. He set it upon his desk and then drew the necklace into his fingers. He didn’t look at Jim as he put it on, slipping it under his robe to rest over his soulmark. He felt the beat immediately. Jim’s heart was a little fast. Slower than his own, but indicative of nervousness in Jim. The state of the heartbeat in humans could reveal a lot to a careful observer. Spock was always fascinated with Jim’s beat. From when the young Jim had forced his way into the embassy and then gone to Vulcan to meet him. Spock had begun to track the heart beat then, when he could find an excuse and then when he didn’t need one anymore.  
“You will return?”  
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”  
“Jim, it is logical to find what you look for efficiently.”  
Jim smiled shakily. They spent the night wrapped up in each other and when Spock fell asleep, Jim grabbed his bag and slipped out the window. He was fourteen and barely a year off Tarsus.


	2. The One With Spock

Jim supposed that bleeding copiously was not the desired outcome. Everyone else made it out in one piece, doing rather well even. It was a stroke of good luck that he discovered the bomb. The stroke of bad luck came when the bomb was accompanied by a very determined bomber who did not like that Jim had disassembled his bomb. Now Jim regretted skipping out on the last month of that self defense training, it would’ve done him some good. Nevertheless he smiled and slipped away quickly, before people started to thank him too much.  
His first aid kit was running low, which led him to the store, just to pick up some consumer level dermal regenerators. The TV was on and the news anchor was going on and on about some new peace talks going on with some alien or another. It was to be executed by Ambassador Sarek on this space station. His whole family was coming, this was important- his whole family. Mrs. Grayson and Spock. Whole family never meant the others, no one knew of them. But Spock, they knew of Spock. Two years. Spock was turning seventeen in two days. They’d be here in two days.  
Jim stared at his ceiling in the cramped hotel room. To get back to the site of the bomb, with the frenzy it caused, he’d have to walk seven kilometers and take four turbo lifts. He’d pass through one area of residency, the probability of people living in those houses having their TVs or speaker on and tuned to news was high. He didn’t want to calculate it right now. Spock would know. He wouldn’t know why that would bother Jim though.   
“I’m seven kilometers away from the bomb site, the place I was taken hostage with five other individuals. I was beaten up because I took apart the bomb. You come in two days. I’m sure you’re hearing about it. Being afraid is illogical, it won’t stop you. If the bomb was set before you got there, it is logically not intended for Ambassador Sarek. Therefore it would be illogical to cancel such important plans. I don’t want to walk the seven kilometers. I don’t want to think about the seven kilometers. It’s not an exact measure. If I told you where I am, would you tell me the exact measure? Your birthday is in two days. I don’t want to think about all the people tuned into the news. They talk about the bomb. They talk about me. I’ve missed you. I’m afraid that if I see you I’ll never leave again. Just stay by your side forever. I’m afraid if I don’t I’ll get lost. Somewhere out here. Remember that time I was a DJ? You wouldn’t, you weren’t there. I told you about it, or tell you about it. I don’t know. Happy Birthday. One time I was messing around with it, I was on stage, working. Suddenly I stopped, I heard my loop going and going and going. I saw people jumping and jumping and jumping. And I stopped and stopped and stopped. Rubber hit the road and I was gone. Why? Why Spock? You’d never be so illogical, so lost. You’re so sturdy. So found, so sure, so safe. I need to be safe again. Two days, two days to decide. Two days. How many kilometers will you be?”

Jim sat and sipped coffee as he watched the ships come in and out. They would arrive on a small Vulcan diplomatic vessel. It, like everything else, was a symbol. Jim sipped his coffee and watched. Before him sat a sketchbook with one perfectly new piece of charcoal on it. The paper was marred, but the charcoal untouched. He had watched the morning rush come and go. The ship was planned to come in a 13:08 precisely. It would. They were to stay 12.45 kilometers from his current place of residence. He had already signed out. He was currently 5.43 kilometers from their planned place of residence for the four days. Spock had compromised. Jim was ten, Spock was precise. He went to the fifth decimal place, Jim did not appreciate that. The second decimal place was the compromise. Jim got more. Jim always got more. Spock was a selfless bastard. Probably still is. Jim has told him, or will tell him on many occasions.  
The recordings held firm in Jim’s pocket. His jacket was frayed, stained, and worn. He had bought this one at a trader’s station while on a layover to Starbase 45 to go to Deneva. George Samuel Kirk Jr was on Deneva. George Samuel Kirk Jr never knew that Jim had also been there at one point. It was a short stay and a long flight. Jim went on to study universal microbiology and the indicators microbiology would give about intelligent life. He built four robots for that. Each one set upon a different planet. Spock was never next to him when Jim was excited. He missed Spock. He wasn’t ready to return.  
The official Vulcan diplomatic vessel arrive at 13:08. Jim sipped his coffee. Spock would step into his quarters at 14:07. Jim’s math was probably off. He tried to account for Spock’s growth over the two year but had no reliable baseline for it. The routine of Spock meeting the delegates and then leaving with his mother to the quarters is not predictable since both parties are not Vulcan. Not logical. The usual routine of Mrs. Grayson and Spock and- no not anymore- setting up the living room and kitchen would maybe be the same. Probably not. Spock would proceed to his studies. No, Jim wouldn’t know. Spock would possibly, probably, maybe step into his quarters at 14:07. It had been two years. Too long. How would Jim know? Jim sipped his coffee. If it was alcohol he would’ve been cut off by now. If it was alcohol he would’ve drank it faster.

There were four ways into the temporary S’chn T’gai residence. One the front door. Two the balcony. Three the side door. Four the ventilation. Jim used the ventilation. He had developed a thin hoverboard to lie on. It was easy, he ghosted through. The security was thin, easy to get by. Jim was too skinny, the fit was barely tight. He laid on his board for four minutes watching Spock study. He held his comm out before him. He’d have to contact Spock before just dropping down to say hi. Spock wasn’t expecting him, he would react defensively and quickly.  
_Spock, don’t panic, it’s good to see you again. (PS it’s Jim, promise)_  
Spock was slow to read his comm and then quick to look around. Jim watched Spock calculate the various ways Jim might see him, the window posing many varieties, a quick scan revealing no cameras, and finally the ventilation. Jim pushed it open and grinned down at Spock.  
“Did knocking not cross your mind?”  
“It did, but eh, I didn’t like the idea. Give me a hand?”  
Spock stood and brought a stool over which he held steady. Jim winked as he wriggled out to place his hands on it and then kick his feet over, landing softly.  
“I see you have practiced in your absence.”  
“Yeah, you know figured I might as well impress you. That tumble a few years back was rather embarrassing.”  
They stood once more apart, the distance between them practically cavernous. Spock surveyed Jim and Jim surveyed Spock.  
“You are injured.”  
Jim shrugged, “Just a bit. Patched up the bad stuff last night.”  
“You need a new jacket.”  
“Yeah, probably. This one’s been through a lot, but it was a good one.”  
Silence snuck back in as they stood. Jim broke, he sighed and flopped down on Spock’s bed. Spock wouldn’t have even touched it yet, it wasn’t the time for it to be used yet. Spock sidled in beside him.  
“Man Spock, I missed you. There’s so much, so much that’s happened.” Jim snuggled in closer and toed his shoes off. “Happy Birthday.”  
Spock reached out and placed his hand over Jim’s heart. It beat in time with his necklace. “Ashalik. I did not expect this. I used to. Everywhere I went, I calculated the probability that you might also be there. That you might come and see me. I stopped 364 days ago.”  
“I’m sorry Spock. Last year, on your birthday, I sang. It was quiet, I was staring up at Vulcan. I almost purchased a ticket a week prior. I was just short of the cash. I went on with my plan to backpack the Pacific Crest Trail instead. It’s in your gift, it all is.” Jim sat up and pulled the recordings out of his pocket, one little device with two years worth of conversations to Spock.  
“You are still injured Jim. I will get a kit.”  
“Wait, dont- just- keep- damn. I’m not here, yeah? Like don’t tell Mrs. Grayson or Ambassador Sarek.”  
Spock raised an eyebrow and nodded. Jim sat on the bed and kicked his socked feet against it as he waited. The recordings he had tossed onto Spock’s desk and now he sat and stared at the walls. There were nothing on them. This was not Spock’s room. He wondered if it looked the same. Jim had put things up in Spock’s room. Spock placed things on shelves, placed neatly. Jim tacked things onto walls haphazardly. A picture of them here, a blueprint there, and the wall all chalked up right in the middle. Was the chalk washed off? The photos put into frames and properly arranged on the shelves? Were they near his lyre?  
Spock was back quickly and as soon as he entered Jim asked, “Do you still play? The lyre I mean.”  
“Yes.”  
“Good. You look particularly stunning when you play.”  
“I did not bring it with me.”  
“Too bad. I learned to play the violin and several saxophones. Once you learn the one the others aren’t too hard.”  
“Do you still impersonate distressed whales?”  
With a laugh Jim shook his head. “No, no more distressed whales. Though I could always learn a piece or two written by some distressed whales if you asked.”  
“If I asked you to stay would you?” Spock was quick, so quick Jim knew he hadn’t stopped to consider the logic. Jim stopped. He remembered his coffee and his plans to buy a new jacket.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Why?” Spock was focused on healing a bit more of Jim’s face, the regenerator doing its work. It was not one that Jim could buy over the counter, required special training.  
“Did you know that when Isaac Newton wrote about his laws of gravity he didn’t provide an explanation for why gravity exists. He knew that everything would have a pull on them towards the ground. He knew how to calculate the acceleration toward the ground. He even knew the gravitational constant. But he couldn’t tell anyone why it happened. Why there was a gravitational constant. In his book he left it for the reader to figure out, to postulate. A cover of sorts for himself not knowing.” Jim paused, “I know that I have to do something, go somewhere, find something. I have no idea why. Why I have this drive to go out alone and travel. I can never settle. I once spent a month in Spain. There was this virus that caused a bunch of adults’ DNA to begin to unravel. For some reason it was viral. I bought this really big house to house all these kids who would sit in the hospital and watch their parents dwindle away. They’re still there. All those kids. Kids I had sat by, kids I sang with, kings I began a garden with, kids I helped raise a goat with, kids I cooked for. All those kids. They’re parents died, one by one. Doctors had no idea what happened, it was so concentrated, must have been an attack. A serial killer who decided to have a one off. And I left their kids.”  
Spock was done, the kit packed away. He stared at Jim, “You built a home for all of them.”  
“No, I left them. I left them Spock. Just like I left you. I left them.”  
“Jim, you have not left me. You are here and you are going to come back.”  
“I did though. I left you. I don’t even know why. I just- I just did. What am I doing? Why am I doing it?”  
“You are a creature of instinct Jim. That is how you survive. It is in my best interest for you to survive. It is therefore logical of me to trust your instinct. If it is logical for me to do it, it is logical for you to. If you do not trust and act on your instinct, my logic falls through. Vulcans are the ‘masters of logic’ as you often say.”  
Jim grinned slowly, “Alright then, Master of Logic, I guess I have to. Now come on, let’s do something fun, like play chess.”

Chess was rhythmm. Start a game, banter, and then mix in some deeper discussion. End a game, repeat. Easy, simple, fun. Topics were not so intimate as they had been before. Recent scientific advances were discussed. Past memories sometimes came up when relevant. Otherwise it was as though two scientific colleagues were meeting up after work.  
“Hey, Spock, remember how you have that perfect recall?”  
“Are you attempting wordplay?”  
“Attempting? I’m succeeding!”  
“As you often say, it is all about perspective.”  
“Well, do you?”  
“Yes, I do recall my perfect recall.”  
“That was a beautiful sentence Spock, you’re welcome for getting you to say it.” Jim winked, “Remember that one time I stopped a game to begin to design our future lake house?”  
“Yes, you seemed to be unaware that gravity exists.”  
“Duck tape fixes everything, it’ll work itself out.”  
“Neither of those two statements are congruent with each other.”  
“I won a lakehouse in high stakes poker. Well, actually, I won a lake. I started blueprints to build a lakehouse. I then set them on fire and began to work for a trucking company. But now we have a lake. It’s really nice, in Arizona, so it won’t get too cold. There’s a great view of the stars and these big rocks off in the distance. I’ve not checked them out up close, but they kinda look cool, good for climbing.”  
“What were your original plans?” Spock moved his rook.  
“Something small. The main bedroom with a skylight, a really big one. One of those porch swings, for leisuring, a nice kitchen. BIg enough to have guests over and feed them easily but not vacuous. And, you know, the basics. A garden of some sorts perhaps.”  
“I am certain you will design it to suit your needs well.”  
“What about you? What do you want in it? I could lay the foundation for it whenever I got back to Earth. I could keep up with the project with a few robots I built for an acquaintance's construction company. I’m sure they’d give me a bit of a discount after the discount I gave them.”  
“Jim, was the discount, one hundred percent off?”  
“Basically, yeah.”  
“That is not a discount, that is you making a robot for fun and giving it away.”  
“Well, I couldn’t just let it rust in some storage facility. And I don’t want to keep things for sentimental reasons. Not when the memories don’t- Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. What would I do with more money? I’ve got that account from my dad. Money from selling the farm-”  
“James. You sold the farmhouse in Riverside?”  
“Yeah, Frank died and I uh, well. No one else would go back. I just put an ad up and accepted an offer. It got more than it deserved. And I’ve accumulated some cash from wandering around doing odd jobs here and there. I don’t really spend it on much.”  
“You will be buying a new jacket and full med kit.”  
“Okay.”  
Spock nodded and moved his knight.  
There was silence as Jim began to set up a back door for his king in anticipation of Spock’s corner.  
“So, you recall that conversation we just had?”  
“No, please enlighten me.”  
Jim cracked a grin, “Sassy Spock is the best Spock.”  
“I was unaware that multiple iterations of Spock existed.”  
“Oh yeah, there are a ton. It’s pretty great. But this is besides the point. I brought up the lakehouse to invite you to live there one day.” Jim rushed the ‘one day’ and after a quick breath, “if you want.”  
“I would be honored to live with you Jim.”  
“Honored, cool. Yeah. I mean we did at one point. On Vulcan, live together that is. I just thought, you know. A lake house was always discussed and maybe. Yeah, uhm yeah.”  
“Indeed. Might I request a place for meditation?”  
“Totally. Definitely. I can send you sketches, keep you updated. I mean if you’re going to live there one day. You should get a say in it. A big say.”  
“Logical.”  
“Mmhmm. Check.”

“Ready for lunch?”  
“Indeed. Do you have a particular place in mind?”  
“Nah, I was planning on picking up a sandwich someplace, but we should go for some sort of actual lunchy thing now.”  
“I was under the impression that sandwiches were a traditional lunch food for humans.  
“I mean I guess they kind of are, but I’m thinking of fancy.” Jim waved his hands about as they walked and talked. “It’s like how Vulcans have plomeek soup all the time for breakfast, so that first morning I was there you guys had something different, it gave the meal a fancier air.”  
“It was the idea of my mother.”  
“It is kind of a human thing to use a meal to set the tone of something. But come on, let’s get like soup in a bread bowl or some super weird fusion. I have sandwiches all the time.”  
“What precisely is a bread bowl?”  
“Precisely it is a loaf of bread with a hole in the middle to put soup in.”  
“An intriguing method of reducing waste.”  
“I don’t think that’s why it was invented, but I suppose it’s a nice side effect.”  
“Where is the closest store with soup in a bread bowl?”  
“Dunno. Aren’t you supposed to be the know it all.”  
“I am in unfamiliar territory. I had not planned to partake in lunch outside of the temporary residence provided.”  
“Wow, I still can’t figure out how you manage to sound so ridiculously formal all the time. Through in a dude every now and again, or be a little crazy and use contractions! Live life on the wild side.”  
“I’ll attempt to comply with your recommendation, James.”  
“Ha! Alright, I’ll admit it, you’re cute. Ooh there’s a map over there, we can find a place with soup. Soup!”  
Jim charged over and quickly commanded the map to find any place serving soup.  
“Alrighty then, so these three have consumable bowls of the bread classification. Which logo do you like better Spock?”  
“Choosing a institution of dining based on logo aesthetic is highly illogical.”  
“Flattery will get you nowhere Spock, well, that’s not true. It’ll get you _somewhere_ , but I don’t think that’s where you currently want to go. Seeing as we’re looking to eat and all. I mean I’m not _hungry_ in that sense, can’t speak for you though.”  
“Jim, if you would cease the necessary and convoluted emphasis and choose the location for lunch, I would, if I were an emotional individual and prone to such feelings, be highly appreciative.”  
“Wow, I see how it is. Well I like this through back to the eighties logo, so we’re going to the Barbershop of Soup. Which is a weird name, but their graphic art style is real snazzy, so I’m sure they’re cooking is up to par.”  
“Lead the way, Jim.”  
“Let’s go! We’re off to the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!”


	3. Chapter 3

Spock boarded the ship to go back to Vulcan, Jim told Spock exactly where he’d watch the departure from, so Spock would know which window to gaze at as he left.  
“I know it’s sentimental as hell and you don’t do that stuff, but I do. So just look in the general direction for me, yeah?”  
“For you, James, I will comply.”  
Jim smiled, it was one of his slow forming smiles. The one that indicated to Spock that Jim was sad, but also happy. The sad happiness which Jim promised to explain to Spock but all he ever did was give Spock watercolor paintings. Things like a stream painted in very deep blues with one shiny rock at the bottom. Or rain against a window with a solitary leafless oak tree in the distance. Paintings Spock kept stored away in a little folder, in his lyre case, under a folder of sheet music. Music that Jim insisted Spock write out when they were younger. He was always in awe of the way the notes bounced around the page, portraying the music both in spirit and denotation. Spock would play and watch as Jim tried to follow the notes, first tracing with fingers, then waving with hands, and eventually swaying his whole body.  
Spock had not listened to the recording Jim gave him. He had spent the whole time totally invested in Jim being there. They stayed up late and fell asleep curled in each other. Played chess and talked about anything. Jim made Spock pizza once when Amanda went out to meet up with a friend and Sarek was at a meeting. The entire time Spock watched, listened, and memorised. Every part of Jim that changed and every part that was the same was carefully recorded. So that when Spock couldn’t meditate, those times where he needed to lean against Jim and found him absent, he could remember. Remember how Jim got flour everywhere and insisted that cooking food for someone was that kindest thing possible. How he smiled and his eyes would turn a different shade of blue.  
How his hands often portrayed his emotions more than anything else. They often moved about, but the times Spock treasured the most were when they were still. When Jim was content. Jim would be wrapped up in the moment, little smiles slowly forming and slowly leaving before coming back soon after. How he’d often tilt his head before laughing. And he’d seek Spock out. Gravitate towards him, like he needed Spock just as much as Spock needed Jim.

But now he sat, far away from Jim. Or perhaps close. He didn’t know where Jim was going next. In his hands he held Jim’s past two years. Fourteen to sixteen. The time spent without Spock. So soon after that year where Spock couldn’t protect Jim from the worst thing to ever happen to him, Tarsus. Spock had waited with the recording on the trip back, feeling that a transport vessel wasn’t the proper place. Jim always said that ambiance was everything. He insisted that to really get into something, to truly process it, you had to be fully in it. Cater your whole environment to that one thing. And since this was Jim that Spock would soon be listening to, he felt he should honor that.  
So he set up his room. Pushed Jim’s giant bean bag into a corner, put on headphones, and brought out the scrapbook his mom made for him. The one with every picture of Jim she could find and most of the pictures that he took, all of them with an attached memory. After completing a breathing exercise and coming very close to a meditative state, Spock hit play.

“Day one, well night one,” Jim was quiet, almost whispering, “No. That’s not right. Dear diary? Restart. Alright who’s the audience, Jim? Me, future me, is this an autobiography? What’s the purpose?” He paused, “Spock. Hey Spock. I’ll have given this to you, then. Obviously. To keep you apprised, up to date. So in some way, somehow, I can still talk to you, even from so far away.  
So I just left. Used the window. I didn’t want to wake up your parents. I stood just watching you for ten minutes, almost crawled back in bed and stayed. I’m heading to Earth first. There’s a fleet ship at port that leaves tomorrow and I can jump on the last cargo shuttle tonight. This one’s automated and I’ve got this foolproof stow away plan. Nabbed the blueprints of everything from ship specs to computer software.  
I’m staying away from Riverside, but I figured Earth is a good place to start. Whatever this is, wherever I need to be or whatever I need to find, maybe it’s on Earth. Then we can cut this real short and I can be home real soon. I really don’t know what else to say on here. I’m not even sure what it’s for at this point. I just started it on a whim. So, talk to you later Spock. I promise to be back.”

There was a pause before Jim came back. “Hey Spock! This is your quick, non-chronological, interlude. For your enjoyment, I’ve delineated that actual purpose of this thing that I’ve given you. It’s like a bunch of letters, addressed to you. However, there are also songs, sung by me, and other fun such things tacked onto the end. Navigation is easy breezy, just tap where you wanna go. But back to your regularly scheduled event, of me, in the midst of a strange not midlife crisis. What happens next? What does Jim do? Keep listening to find out!”  
Jim’s first stop was Santa Monica. “San Francisco just doesn’t feel right at the moment and this place will teach me how to surf while I work on hoverbikes. There’s some good people here. It’s nice.”  
Two month later he left. “Washington, I’m thinking. Maybe then kind of wander around Canada. I could learn some French while I’m at it.”  
Sure enough Jim learned French and he would sing to Spock in it. Spock listened to Jim almost constantly. He’d fall asleep to singing and wake up to it. He could judge time based on the song playlist after a week. He wore earbuds to all meals and listened as Jim told Spock about his day or how he learned four new types of omelets today or how he wants a dog but really would never want to actually take care of the dog. It became a lifeline of sorts. A connection to Jim.

“Spock.”  
“Yes, sa-mekh?”  
“You have been invited on a trip with the esteemed scientist S’Tur to Kirchoff 9 in order to study how light travels. This is an experiment with the end goal of changing atomic structure by controlling how light hits electrons. I expect you will be going.”  
“It is an interesting and educational experience.”  
“Good. You are to be ready next Tuesday at 0500. Your teachers have been instructed to give you your coursework in advance.”  
Spock nodded and left his father’s office. His first instinct was to tell Jim. Jim would be passionate and emotional for Spock. Getting excited and saying ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’ an exaggerated number of times. He’d grin and beg to come along too. ‘I’ll hide in the suitcase! You only really need one extra robe anyways. You never spill.’ They’d both read up on all the cases by S’Tur together and research all night long. However Jim was not here and Spock did not know how to contact him. So instead he went to bed at an appropriate hour after meditating. He woke up, had breakfast, went to school, completed his work, researched before dinner, had dinner, meditated, and went to bed. Jim’s voice sat on his desk. It was illogical to cling to it like he had. Jim was not here. He would not be. It was illogical to wish for something which is not. Kaiidth.  
Tuesday came and Spock was packed and waiting at the ship port at 0450 precisely. He had planned his schedule perfectly so as to get the appropriate amount of sleep. He could almost imagine Jim complaining. ‘You aren’t supposed to be so calm. This is huge! It’s a real experiment. Like a legit one. You’re applying to the VSA, or the ViSAw as I prefer to call it. This is huge. This is so super cool. You could work with this guy, maybe even like help with a huge breakthrough. Win the Vulcan equivalent of a Nobel peace prize. Do you have an equivalent? What would that look like?”  
Spock almost, just almost stated to explain how illogical it was for awarding scientist that simply observed the world around them. He was ready for the back and forth that might happen. Ready to end up conceding with a smile as he heard Jim sigh. Instead he tapped the pocket in his robes which held Jim’s voice. He had grabbed it right before leaving. Perhaps having Jim with him in some form would be nice. There was two months worth of recording left. Jim was unexpectedly studious about making each recording. If he missed, the next recording would make up for the lost time. Cataloging each day. Sometimes there were multiple a day. If Jim were very excited, sad, or particularly emotional that day and Spock could practically feel him there. As though Spock were along for the ride. Those were the best, but most painful ones. 

The shuttle came exactly on time. Spock boarded and continued his classwork. It was illogical to listen to music. He should be solely focused on work. Vulcans do not have issues focusing. The shuttle landed exactly on time. Spock grabbed his luggage and proceeded to his designated living quarters before immediately going to S’Tur’s office to report. Jim did not come with. Jim was not there. 

Spock was set up with the logistical work. Work which required a lot of time, energy, and an in depth but not extensive knowledge of how light interacts with the world. He was learning via the raw data output. He worked the instruments once. In order to better understand the data he was cataloging, recording, and analyzing. Spock did not feel any particular emotion towards such activities. They enhanced his learning which was logical and provided experience for his future in science. Also logical. 

Sometimes he would return to his quarters and simply meditate and then sleep. That way he did not imagine how Jim would react to things. That way he would not even get close to a smile. This was logical. Today as he walked to his quarters he was editing his algorithm for sorting. Taking into account a new data set and S’Tur’s new interpretation following an interesting discovery. Spock had brought up the interaction of neutrinos on tetrachloroethylene. Since one of the three types of neutrinos can transform tetrachloroethylene into argon and an electron, Spock was curious if such an interaction was similar to that of light vibrating an atom at the proper frequency to modify that atom. S’Tur had sent him a wide range of research papers to read. It had been one week since he began to work with S’Tur. Spock had hit upon an efficient and logical rhythmm to his work. Today he would call home to contact his mother and inform her of his activities. She said that part of her humanity included the illogical task of worrying for him. Often times she would remark that she worried so that he did not have to. It was not a logical remark and still Spock could not understand it. However, it was logical to fulfill the requests of your mother. And so he opened his quarters ready to get a meal and contact his mother. 

Instead he faced Jim. Standing and looking out the window. Duffel bag at his feet and coffee mug in his hand.  
“I bought you coffee.”  
“I was unaware that I needed such a purchase.”  
“Well how would you survive without it?”  
“I am doing quite well in those regards currently.”  
“Hey.” Jim smiled quietly as he turned to face Spock. Spock who was still standing in his entryway. The algorithm running on his padd.  
“You are in time for dinner.”  
“I should hope so, I did make it after all. Come on, its eggplant lasagna.” 

Spock’s quarters were minimal. He did not require much and a dining room was not perceived as a necessity. Jim jumped up on the kitchen counter and Spock leaned against it across from him.   
“How’ve you been then?”  
“I am well.”  
“Yeah. Good. That’s good.”  
“I got this opportunity to work with an esteemed scientist.”  
“Yeah. How exciting is that? It sounds awesome.”  
“Indeed. It is fascinating and educational work.”  
“Fascinating and educational! Spock! This is crazy awesome. This is the coolest thing.”  
“Perhaps.”  
“Don’t like it?”  
“Jim-” Spock paused, “I. I have-” Spock stopped. It was illogical to talk when one did not know what they were saying.”  
“I’m sorry. I missed you. I missed us.” Jim shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why. I just know that I’ve got to. I really am sorry.”  
Spock nodded.  
“Look. I just. Do you think you love me?”  
“I do not understand your thought process.”  
“It’s just. Well. How can you love me? You haven’t known me for years. Like I just left. I don’t even know who I am. How can I love me? I can’t! I don’t. I hate who I am and what I’ve done. I left you. You, Spock. The greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t leave you. That I needed the time. For some dumb reason. That I could find something or myself or I don’t know. But I just. I was wrong and now here I am lost and just downtrodden. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m an idiot. Why. Why am I doing this? I hate what I’ve done. I’m chasing some heroic story. Some adventure. Some puzzle I can solve. Something to prove that I’m worthy of my name. Anything to just prove to myself that I can be loved. And I don’t know what it’s going to take. How do I stop? I just I just. I don’t know. Oh god Spock. I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost you. You were the only truly solid thing in my life. And here I am, screwing it all up. I went through hell and instead of staying. Instead of healing I threw myself at-”

“Jim.”  
“I thought I could fix the universe. Myself. I thought I could fix myself. Who am I to know who I am. What am I doing. Am I so selfish? So arrogant.  
“Jim. Jim!” Spock walked forward. “James.”  
“What?” Jim whispered, fixating his gaze on his plate. Pushing his fork back and forth slowly.  
“Jim. Why are you here?”  
“You got an internship. I just. I noticed, I keep tabs on you. And I well, I don’t know. I just thought. We used to stay up all night talking about the newest scientific knowledge. Even when we were really too young and inexperienced to truly grasp it all. It was just the possibility which the science provided. The true wonder that we had for the subject and discovery.”  
“When I was informed. I prepared everything needed. I acted logically and did everything needed to prepare for the trip, position, and relocation. Often I would make the hypothesis that were you there, you would be pushing me to forgo my logic. To simply feel in the moment. To stay up all night and revel in the possibilities which this would afford me. To hope recklessly. You hope with reckless abandon. You do not base your hope on hard facts and caution. You simply hope.” Spock got imperceptibly closer to Jim.   
“You, James Tiberius Kirk, are a dreamer. You dream p the best things in life and in people. You simply must turn those powers of hope toward yourself.”

“You’re good at this Spock. How’s the lasagna?”  
“It is an acceptable form of nutrition. Chess?”  
“I’m knackered. Wanna cuddle and fall asleep?”

Jim stayed for five days. Five days in which Spock hoped recklessly. Jim would not leave this time. As Spock observed the facts, he knew that Jim would leave. Jim’s bag was always packed. Clothing was neatly ordered and washed so that he may be ready to leave at any moment. He kept track of the exits. He was not settled yet. Not ready to stay put. Yet Spock hoped recklessly in Jim’s honor. 

“Here Spock. If you ever want to contact me. It’s a secure line. Faster than light communication across any distance. Stole it from some Orion pirate who stole it from someone else. I tweaked it a bit here and there, but, well. Here.”  
“Will you stay for dinner?”  
“Lunch.”  
“I will see you then.”

The recording was at his desk that night. Spock did not want to look at it. A recording was not Jim. It was not fair. He didn’t hold him long enough. They didn’t play enough chess. Spock wasn’t ready. He had a logical dinner. Finished up his work and went to bed at an appropriate manner. The next morning he woke up to his alarm. Neatly got ready and set out to finish off his work in a totally logical manner. 

Spock worked with S’Tur for another six months. It was an enlightening time. He was grateful for the opportunity. Upon returning he was faced with the notion of his future.  
“It is logical for you to begin planning for your future, Spock.”  
“Yes, father.”  
“The VSA is the most logical choice. It is the top scientific institution. There is no place more suited to pursuing science.”  
That was not a purely logical statement. Spock saw many issues with it. He would not point them out. Simply agree and follow along with his father. When he was seven, just before he went out to the desert he had promised Jim that he’d consider Starfleet. Even if just briefly. Starfleet accepted the VSA entrance exams as their own entrance exams. It was Starfleet’s attempt to attract Vulcans. It did not work. Spock had two years before the test. Two years to decide.   
He listened to Jim each night after meditating. It was bad practice. One should sleep when they’re mind is emptied and day divided out logically. Spock dreamed of Jim’s voice. He did not let on to anyone. He was lonely. It was illogical. Except Spock did not see it as such. Jim was his intended. His T’hy’la. Jim was important to Spock. It was logical to be so invested.


End file.
